


Wonder Spock?    (a spirk au inspired by/based on Wonder Woman 2017)

by reallyamerica



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dialogue Heavy, First Contact, Forgot to put what I always do, Inspired by Wonder Woman 2017, M/M, Wonder Woman (2017) - Freeform, anyway, basically it's like, ish?, it's complicated - Freeform, it's not exact of course I took a lot of liberties and it's not even the same time period but, just read it, present day, too much dialogue, you'll see if you read it lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyamerica/pseuds/reallyamerica
Summary: Vulcans came to Earth under the impression that humankind was ready for first contact with alien life— only to crash land on an unwelcoming planet and go into hiding. They created a home on the island where they crashed (Paradise Island, basically) and have lived there secretly, unnoticed, ever since. Until a certain Captain happened to discover them, rile up the youngest Vulcan there, and run away with him to try to stop WW3 from destroying humanity and the Earth along with it.(a semi-loose Wonder Woman (2017) au)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the working title suuuuucks (feel more than free to suggest something better, titles are a weakness of mine) but I couldn't wait any longer to put up some of this fic ! I started writing it after I saw the movie on premiere night !!!
> 
> I love WonderTrev, and maybe I'll get around to writing some at some point but for now — my thoughts immediately went to spirk. So. Here's the very very beginning of the thing. Hope y'all like it !!!

_Sitting by the window, staring out beyond the shore of the island on which he lived, a child imagined the vast world that lie outward in all directions. He would likely have stayed lost in thought, have even turned his eyes to the sky to dwell on the many worlds out in the universe that had not been explored, but then his father came up behind him and tapped his shoulder._

_“Spock, it is time for you to sleep.” The child didn't pout or frown, but just looked up, wide-eyed, at his parent, peeking back over his shoulder toward the view outside, just once. His father helped him to his feet. “You have been looking out of this window for hours, and there is always tomorrow. You must rest for the night. You have schooling in the morning.”_

_Spock followed his father across the room to his bed, sitting on the edge. His father towered above him._

_“I know. I will sleep. Before I do, will you tell me about what it was like before we came here, again? Why we do not leave?” There was a trace of hope in his tone, which his father noted with displeasure, but the adult did not express it, this time. He sat beside his son, lifting the covers and motioning for the child to get underneath them, and inhaled. Spock repressed the smile that threatened to show, knowing his father was about to begin his favorite bedtime story. The story of their home._

_“Once, our people lived far across the stars, on a hot, dry, inimitable red planet with two suns. It was named Vulcan. Our people built temples and academies, council halls and museums, and all sorts of structures around their world to help archive, organize, and make available and easily accessible all the knowledge they already possessed, and all that they gained each time they went traveling out into the galaxy. Having as much information as they could was very important to them. It allowed them to be intelligent and logical in all that they did, and to avoid allowing emotion to make them rash or biased. It equipped them with the ability to be truly fair, truly just, truly impartial– in a way that had never before been seen in any society. It provided them the way to leave the violence of passion behind in favor of rational thought. Knowing that they had achieved the height of intellectual sophistication, they watched the other planets they knew of, hoping to find a species as advanced as they were.”_

_“They never interfered with the many peoples they encountered who were unaware of a vast universe beyond their skies. They observed, studied, learned, but did not meddle. It had been agreed that they would not do so, for they knew that they might influence others to evolve as they did, but unnaturally, before it was their time. So they waited. After many years of quiet from the distant worlds, they received a message. A capsule full of pictures, music, information. It was a snapshot of existence on a planet that it’s inhabitants called… Earth. That is where we are now, my son. Our people were intrigued. The message had been one of greeting, of sharing, of curiosity, of hope. They were very different than we were; they were emotional, sometimes violent, foolhardy— but they were not entirely dissimilar to our people. Like us, those people sought to connect with other sentient and intelligent life away from their home world. Now that they had called to our people, to anyone out there, we thought it was finally the right time to make contact. We set out.”_

_“Upon arrival, we found that their message was outdated, and that they were not expecting us. Our spacecraft had suffered critical damage on our journey, and we thought they could assist us in repairing it. But when we endeavored to communicate, the leaders of their world hid the knowledge of our visit and attempted to detain us by launching strange devices at our ship. They were unsuccessful, but they did aggravate the existing deterioration to our ship’s power system and cause us to spiral down to the planet's surface in an uncontrolled landing. We crashed here, and have remained ever since, as we were unable to construct a vehicle capable of returning us home from the debris that was left. We recovered enough technology from the wreckage to send a signal of distress toward our home, but we held no hope for rescue as our calculations showed that the archaic message format would take hundreds of years to reach it. Instead, we accepted our situation.”_

_“From then on, we spent years creating a replacement for the life we had before. This island became ours. We named it New Shi’Kahr, and used its resources and everything that we could scrap from the ruins of our craft to construct all of the things that make it our home. The observation tower, the holographic cloaking beacons, the shielding, the houses, the schools, and this, too, our great library. Where we store all that we know, just like we used to. And we add to it nearly everyday as we gain more information from our experiments, from listening to the communications of the people of Earth, from watching this planet’s environment and it's flora and fauna, and from gazing out into the stars.”_

_“We have not tried to contact the Earthlings again, we have kept to ourselves, and we have survived the difficulties it took to establish our new civilization here. We do what we have always done. We learn, we do not interfere. We belong here now. We try to understand more everyday, we gather data, we continue to invent new things and to strive to find a way to build a ship like the one we lost without the necessary materials that are only available on the planet we came from, with the aim of returning there. But we stay hidden. That is how it has been ever since.”_

_“And that is why you cannot venture beyond our shores, Spock, no matter how interesting such a notion may seem to you now. It is for your safety and it is in order to maintain our way of life. Do you understand?”_

_The now sleepy child nodded his head, adjusting his pillow._

_“Yes, father.”_

_With that, his parent stood from his bed, and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him. And Spock adjusted his pillow just a little more, so he could see out his window as his eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep._


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious human has parachuted down onto New Shi'kahr...

Spock was the only child on New Shi’Kahr. His father was tight-lipped on the topic, telling him that he was a special creation and nothing else. The lack of detail was explained as concision, a simple issue of being succinct, and he was frequently deterred from dwelling on the matter. He did not know why, and while he was very interested in finding out, after years of interrogating everyone on the island and scouring the great library for answers, and having each one of the theories he proposed dispelled, he had resigned the enigma of his uniqueness to a currently unsolvable mystery, and focused his curiosity elsewhere. The world outside.

In his childhood he read every tome about Earth, every book on humans, every page about the places in space that his people had long ago been to and the alien races they had met. He digested every word. It was never enough.

When he was not busy with the studies his father insisted required his attention, or his duties to New Shi’Kahr (he especially disliked when he had to assist in delivering supply shipments– whenever he went up to someone's door to give them their package, they always gave him strange, unnamable looks), he spent hours in the observation tower. He would stare through the telescopes until his body demanded food or rest, or his father came to get him. He was fascinated by what was out there to be discovered. 

Everyone on the island knew he was brilliant. He absorbed every bit of what he was taught in every subject, excelled in every field he worked in, and earned the right to have access to every facility and resource that they possessed. He learned everything he could. The only thing he did not know about in depth was the truth concerning his own origins.

He did not only exercise his mind, as he got older. He trained his body as well. While his people had so long abandoned the violent nature that had caused wars to ravage their home planet before their mental evolution, and now considered themselves to be a peaceful race, they did not forget _how_ to fight. Paranoia that the humans had possibly intended to cause the destruction of their ship all those years ago kept many of the islanders practicing battle tactics and reviewing military strategy in the great library. They wanted to be prepared in the event that their hidden society was discovered. It was a logical precaution. Spock mastered several incapacitating attacks as quickly as he had learned basic arithmetic, and though it went unsaid, everyone was impressed. It seemed as though there was nothing he could not do.

Except, apparently, to find fulfillment. Spock was never content with the prospects offered him, he could not find satisfaction in the idea of living his entire life on New Shi’Kahr. He wanted to explore.

But he knew better. He could and would not disobey his father or the rule of his people. They were meant to observe and remain detached, not to travel out and involve themselves. So he sat everyday in the observation tower, wondering why he could not find the peace with this way of being that every other Vulcan already enjoyed.

On what could have been a day indifferent from any other, Spock was bent over with his eyes glued to the viewpiece of an in-atmosphere telescope, looking at the distant horizon. As always, he saw waves rolling on the water, the faint electronic ripple of the inside of their island sized cloaking hologram, and the line in the distance where the sea visually appeared to meet the sky. Normal, regular, average.

And then it wasn't.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw something pass through the holocloak and the shields. He swung the telescope to it, and adjusted the magnification. A bipedal form dangling from a parachute was floating slowly down from the very top of their island’s protective bubble. That was decidedly not typical. Straightening, Spock looked around the tower to see if anyone else had noticed. The only other person in the room was at the transmissions console, transcribing whatever dictation she was listening to. She was entirely unaware. Spock peered into the eyepiece again, making certain that he really had spotted a figure. Upon confirmation, he stood and rushed directly from the room.

As he ran along the path to the shore, he fumbled in his satchel for his much smaller and much less powerful handheld telescope. Bringing it up to look through, he tried to avoid tripping over his own feet as he continued to speed forward. The parachute was about halfway down to the water now. He began to sprint. Intermittently, as he went, he checked how much closer the drifting figure was to the sea. And as it drew nearer, he went faster.

When he got to the part of the beach nearby where he had just moments before watched the parachute splash down, he scanned the waves. At first he saw nothing, and nearly questioned his sanity, thinking perhaps his imagination had gotten away from him. But then, in between the peaks of two whitecaps, he spotted the material of the parachute he had seen, now soaked and discolored. He did not, however, see the person that was attached to it. Without a thought he dropped his satchel and dove into the water. 

His arms churned through the sea and though his eyes burned when he opened them underwater, he could see the sinking figure of a man half in shadow and half in a shaft of sunlight that penetrated the surface of the sea. He swam in close and wrapped his arms around his torso and headed for the surface as quickly as he could. When they emerged into the air again, he found that the clasp attaching the man to his parachute was broken, and the fabric was creating too much resistance for him to get them both out of the ocean as fast as possible. So, he ripped the cords and left the tangled mess behind as he pushed back toward the shore. He hauled himself and the waterlogged body he was holding onto the sand, huffing to catch his breath, trying his best to keep from sputtering. Regaining a bit of his sense, he crawled up and knelt over the man.

He was not breathing. For a moment, Spock was not sure what to do. The man’s hair was matted with saltwater to his forehead, and his clothes clung to his wet body. His hands were pruned, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor. His legs limply shifted position as the tide rolled in and washed up to his waist. Spock reached to try to do something (he had read about several emergency procedures such as mouth-to-mouth and the like), but before he could begin the man’s chest heaved and he coughed up a lungful of water. For a moment, it seemed water was going to come from his nose and mouth without end, but then he was gasping for air, blinking rapidly as if he'd just awoken from a nightmare. Color returned to his cheeks and his face seemed much less pale. Spock tilted his head, tentatively reaching to help the man sit up partially, causing him to really look at him for the first time. He had eyes that were a brighter blue than Spock had ever seen. And they were staring at him.

“Wow,” the man whispered in a raspy voice, directly followed by a return to choking for air. More blinking.

“You're a human.” Spock observed, taking in the rounded ears, and the red blood dribbling from wounds on the man’s hands. He had tried to free himself from the broken clip before Spock had arrived. As he sucked in deep breaths, the man made a confused face at Spock's statement.

“Yes, yeah.” He replied simply, between the coughing and his ragged breathing. “I mean, don't I look like one?”

The human squinted at the sun beating down on the island, and tried to look around the beach and get his bearings, only to turn his gaze back to Spock with even more confusion.

“Where are we?” He wanted to know, so Spock told him. 

“New Shi’kahr.” The human wrinkled his nose at this response.

“New Shi…? Wha—“

“Who are you?” Questioned Spock, leaning closer. The man swallowed.

“Uhh, I'm a good guy. Running from some bad guys. They were right on my tail before I ejected from my plane, too, so we might want to get off the beach.” He answered. Spock furrowed his brows

“What are you speaking of, who was following you?” Just as he asked this, a small jet with what seemed to be two passengers inside zipped through the island shields with a crack to the sound barrier and swerved into view. The man started, struggled to his feet, and stumbled backward, trying to get to cover. Spock's eyes widened.

The plane circled the island, and for a moment Spock was so in shock that he was not able to react. Then, the noisiness of the plane having alerted the islanders to an invasion, the emergency alarm went off. With a rush of slight panic, Spock went after the man, who was jumping into the mouth of a cave in one of the beach cliffs. The young islander peaked out just in time to see that the plane was unloading heavy fire, quickly approaching their location, and the bullets were shredding through the boulders that littered the shore. He ducked back into the cave, looking at the man. He was peering around for some kind of escape.

Outside, Spock heard the faint whirring of one of the engines that they had constructed to run island defense equipment powering up. The plane continued to tear through the sand, leaving deep craters, drawing nearer. Spock shut his eyes.

A single flash of light, accompanied by an electric sounding shot, and the plane had lost its left half, and was nosediving for the water. Before it reached it, the engine exploded and the whole plane was pulverized into shards of metal and polyfiber and glass. The man was staring again, his jaw dropped, slowly walking out of the cave. Spock followed.

“What was that?” The man asked hoarsely.

“A blast from a small phaser canon. One of several in our defense system. As our shields failed and the aircraft had engaged us with hostile action, we were trying to protect ourselves. I do not think the goal was to entirely destroy the vessel, though.” While Spock was giving the man an answer, the sound of a chattering crowd grew louder as it came down the path to the beach and closer to where they stood on the sand. When the two were spotted, Spock's father called out.

“Step away from him, now.” He demanded. He raised a small hand phaser and aimed it at the man. Spock stepped in front, positioning himself between his father and the human. The islanders exchanged looks of nearly imperceptible distaste amongst themselves, and Sarek arched a brow at his child.

“No, father, he is not the attacker. He led me to safety off the beach. He landed here upon evacuating his own vehicle, and was pursued by the plane that fired on our island.” Spock told the hoard of Vulcans. Sarek considered this. The man shifted behind him, nervously.

“We should remove his memories of finding our home and send him out to sea on a raft.” Someone suggested.

“And risk him retaining enough knowledge to bring more people here?” Another countered, shaking their head. Ideas and opinions were spouted over each other and the noise became almost deafening, until Spock's father silenced them with a gesture.

“Before we decide what to do with this human,” he began, “perhaps we should mind meld with him to find out what brought him here, and to gather as much information as possible.”

“I will do it.” Spock offered eagerly, right as his father finished speaking. The idea of seeing the experiences of a human through his own eyes, of witnessing life outside of New Shi’Kahr firsthand in the man’s memories, thrilled him.

“We will go forward with the meld if he will not volunteer what we need to know of his own accord.” Sarek stipulated, shooting his son a pointed look.

“Yes, father.” Spock agreed quietly. He turned to face the man, hands folded behind his back. Sarek stepped forward.

“What is your mission, human? What has brought you here?” He inquired. The man had fear in his eyes, but held his ground and shook his head.

“I'm afraid I can't actually tell you that.”

“What is your name?” Sarek asked next, stepping closer. 

“I, uh,” the man put his hands up in a show of his presently unarmed and defenseless state, responding, “can't tell you that, either.”

“You will tell us what we want to know or you will have the information forcibly extracted from your mind.” One of the islanders in the crowd threatened in a venom-laced tone. Sarek raised a hand to silence comments, again. The man stood tall. His brows were knit in tense defiance.

“Do your worst, I won't talk.”


	3. The Council Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The human is brought before the New Shi'kahr council.

The man was bound and they brought him from the beach to the island’s council hall, Spock fretting internally the whole way there, and placed him before all the senior members of the community. Sarek at the front and center. All of the islanders circled around, wanting to view their mysterious visiter. The man was on his knees on the stone floor, tied at the wrists and ankles. He was gazing around with an odd look in his eyes.

“Spock, approach the intruder.” Sarek instructed. His son did so, as he continued. “Perform the meld.”

Spock crouched in front of the man. He held his hand up, but did not yet connect his fingers to the appropriate points on his face.

“I do not want to invade your mind against your will. If you drive me to do so, I will attempt to avoid everything that is not directly related to your coming to New Shi’Kahr, but we must know how and why. Before I begin I want to allow you one last chance to provide the council any information you are willing to disclose.” Spock spoke at a low volume, eyes locked with the man’s brilliant blue ones that had finally stopped roaming all around the hall. He seemed not entirely convinced, but looked up to Sarek.

“I’m Captain James Kirk, and I am just a man who’s trying to do his part to save the world. That's all I can say.” He looked back to Spock when he was done, shrugging. Spock frowned slightly.

“If that is truly all you will divulge, I have no choice but to proceed.” He said, pressing his fingertips to James’ skin. The human closed his eyes, almost instinctually. Spock proceeded breathily, “Your mind to my mind, your thoughts to my thoughts. Our minds moving closer… 

closer… 

_c l o s e r…_

_our minds are one.”_  
—  
Immediately Spock was flooded with a tidal wave of emotion and memory and imagery, and struck by the sensation of not knowing where he ended and where the outside world started. It must have taken him multiple minutes to sort out the wall of thoughts that hit him well enough that he could even begin to navigate and find what he was looking for. His father would likely criticize his lack of efficiency, expediency, but Spock felt that it was justified. This James Kirk’s thoughts were lightning fast, as many as there are grains of sand on a beach, and all laced with fervent opinion and feeling. It was not something Spock had been prepared to face or cope with, but he did his best.

When he finally did obtain the answers that the islanders sought, he had unexpected difficulty severing the link with James’ mind. It was as if his own mind was physically opposed to letting go of the connection. He managed to forced a break. Coming back into himself in the silent council hall was a dizzying contrast to the hum of activity within the human’s head. It took him an additional moment to gather himself.

“Did he harm you? Are you well?” Sarek asked, concerned. You couldn't tell by his voice or expression, of course, but Spock knew his father. He was defensive of his son in his own way.

“I am adequate. He did nothing to me, it was merely a more complicated meld than I anticipated. His mind…” Spock was unsure of what to say, something he had not experienced before. “James Kirk is an extremely dynamic individual.” He explained.

“What have you learned?” Pressed an impatient council member, receiving a cool stare from Sarek before he added his own pressing request to the mix.

“If you are ready, do share what information you have for the council, Spock.” 

“He has not lied to us thus far. His name is James Kirk– James Tiberius Kirk, to be thorough. He is a Captain in the American Air Force, currently working in espionage.” Spock launched into his detailed recount, and James was already sputtering and looking shocked. “He was spying on a military opponent’s weapons facility, was seen, and was chased aerially to a location just above our island. The jet that assaulted the beach shot his plane and when it’s total annihilation appeared imminent, he ejected himself from the aircraft and landed in the ocean, where I found him. I pulled him ashore, and the jet came into our airspace and began firing on the island. We shot it from the sky with a phaser blast, and that is the pertinent entirety of what occurred prior to your discovering he and I on the beach.”

“What the hell _was that_? How did you—“ James began, but was interrupted. The council looked to their leader as he spoke.

“Why was he engaged in such reconnaissance?” Sarek asked. Spock stood from his crouch, facing him.

“Apparently, there is an expansive war occurring outside the safety of our hidden sphere of disengagement. All of the foremost nations of the world have chosen a side, and, despite the very evident planetwide threat, are escalating the hostility.” There were several intakes of breath in response to what Spock revealed, and soft whispers were building in the hall as he spoke. Turning away from his father, Spock said something more. “We must do something.”

The murmurs erupted into a chorus of different views, nearing the volume of shouting. Sarek told two council members to take James to a secure chamber with a bath and a bed, and to hold him until there was order amongst the people and a decision could be made. Spock moved to go with them, but then decided his position on the matter needed to be heard, and concluded that he would have to go to the human later.

“Everyone,” Sarek said in a cool, commanding tone, “chaotic debate will get us nowhere. We need to calmly, rationally discuss how we should handle the predicament and what to do with what we have learned.” As the arguing quieted, Spock stepped beside his father.

“What we should do is clear. Logic dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, which means that we cannot maintain our precedent of non-interference. We must not only let James Kirk go, but we must go with him. Earth is our home too, and we cannot deem ourselves and our privacy of such significance or claim so rigid a stance of superiority that we are prepared to readily allow the rest of its people to lead themselves to destruction.” Spock attempted to convey the importance in his idea, tried to make his fellow islanders understand the only right way to move forward. He wanted them to see they had a _duty_ to try and make a difference and put a stop to the violence.

Instead it seemed he had stunned the hall into silence, the blank faces all around, unsurprisingly, not revealing if anyone had been moved at all by Spock's rallying speech. He wondered if he had convinced anyone, if he'd made any impact. The quiet was not reassuring. Sarek was the first to reply.

“It is not our responsibility to ensure human peace and order. They did not welcome us when we arrived years ago, we have no reason to believe they would do so now.” Several of the remaining council members nodded in agreement as Sarek spoke.

“But, do Surak’s teachings not suggest that we should think from a larger perspective than merely that which concerns only ourselves? Haven't we been instilled with a sense of our function in the universe? A sense that it is logical to be as useful as possible for the duration of our existence? Are we not obligated to help assure the safety of the planet on which we live? If you are not willing to send anyone else, let _me_ go and help.” Spock shot back, facing his father head on. 

“You know not of what you speak, Spock. You were not an adult when our ship was knocked from the sky because we attempted to be involved with humankind, they wanted to capture us, you do not have the experience to argue in their favor nor against me. The council will reconvene tomorrow to decide what to do with James Kirk, but as for the rest of us, yourself included, we will _not_ be leaving New Shi’Kahr.” Sarek dismissed the remaining council members to return to their respective work, and those of the community who had come just to listen in to the meeting to go back to their regular business, striding out of the hall. Spock fell into step just behind him.

“Father, this is not in accordance with–“

“Enough. I will meditate now, leave me.” The elder Vulcan cut his son off. He gave a flick of his hand, ordering Spock away. The young man complied, abruptly, but as he went toward the place where they were keeping James Kirk, he had not let go of his new belief in humanity’s cause.


	4. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock makes a decision.

As Spock was walking down the corridor to the chamber where he was told James Kirk was being held, he heard laughing.

When he went in, Spock saw the human standing in the sonic shower, chuckling to himself. He did not understand what could possible be amusing to him. Baffled, he moved closer. Perhaps there was something he did not see.

Hearing his footsteps, James jumped and moved to cover himself with his hands, but seemed to realize that he didn't have enough hands to cover his whole naked body, so he just smiled awkwardly at Spock.

“I, uh, didn't see you come in,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. Looking him up and down intently, Jim fidgeting a bit under what he must have thought was a scrutinizing gaze, Spock was unfazed, but interested.

“Would you say that you are an average example of your species, James Kirk?” The human flushed red, coughed, looked down at himself, and smirked weakly at Spock's query.

“Ahh, above average, I think.” He answered with a shrug. “You can call me Jim, by the way. And you're– Spock, was it?” Making his way out of the shower and turning it off, he started sidestepping toward bench on which sat a towel and his still-damp clothes.

“Yes, I am Spock. S’chn T’Gai Spock, son of Sarek.” Spock said, crossing his arms, watching as Jim wrapped the towel around his bare waist and knotted it tightly.

“Uh huh, I definitely picked up that the guy in charge was your father. Are you here to let me go?” Jim sounded hopeful. Spock shook his head.

“They have not yet determined what is to be done. I tried to persuade the council to resolve the matter simply and let you return to your leader with the intelligence that you have gathered, as quickly as possible, so that you can get back to your role in attempting to bring the war to an end. I even told them that I wished for them to send me with you.” As Spock told him this, Jim raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Or to send someone else. Everyone. Any Vulcans. _A Vulcan_. But I could not convince my father to see the reason, nor the greater purpose, in becoming involved. He may permit you to leave, he may not, but the rest of my people and I, definitively, cannot.” He continued, trying not to let the disappointment he felt be visible in his face or audible in his voice.

Jim had grabbed his pair of pants and was stepping into them, wiggling them up under the towel he was wearing. He bobbed his head, shifting from foot to foot as he shimmied his pants the rest of the way on, and then straightened up. Spock watched closely, one brow cocked. Jim looked like he was thinking hard as he did the button on his pants and zipped his fly. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Spock nodded at him. “Where are we?”

“New Shi’kahr.”

“Yeah, no, I got that. But I mean, _where are we_? Why do you all have elf ears? What happened when you touched my face earlier? Why are you guys greenish? Why do you speak English so well? Why is the shower like that? What is this place?” The questions spewed out of Jim's mouth as he pulled his undershirt on over his head. Spock processed the human’s word-eruption, lips pressed in a flat line.

“We are on an island that my people have named New Shi’kahr after a city on our home planet, Vulcan. My people are what your kind call extraterrestrials, but we have been here for many many years, since we crashed our ship, so most of us consider Earth our home now, too.” He answered one question, thinking for a second before he tried to answer the rest. 

“I do not know the specifics as to the evolutionary benefits of our ear structure, but I have read that it may relate to Vulcans’ development from a slightly more feline-esque species than the ape ancestors of humankind. You and I telepathically connected with a psionic technique known as a mind meld, long practiced amongst Vulcans. We are viridian in hue because our blood is copper based, instead of iron, unlike that of humans. Myself and many other Vulcans speak many human languages, in order to better understand more of the communiques we pick up. The shower is a sonic shower, which we use because it is more comfortable and efficient than a water shower.” Spock tilted his head. “I believe that I have provided answers to all of your questions.”

Jim did not reply for a minute, frozen, just blinking at Spock again. Spock wondered if perhaps that was a common human tendency, to simply blink rapidly, and say nothing. Gathering himself, Jim shrugged into and buttoned up a shirt, and then tucked it into his pants. Spock waited to hear the response that the human was formulating.

“Oookay, then. Well, anyway, about what you said before, me not getting a ‘Vulcan’ escort to the front lines,” Jim cleared his throat, “I guess I don't blame him. Your father. I wouldn't want anyone I cared about or was responsible for going off to war, either, if it could be avoided.” He looped a belt around himself as he spoke. Spock unfolded his arms.

“I am confused. If you would not want that, why do you want to return _yourself_ to it?” Jim pursed his lips and furrowed his brow when Spock asked this.

“I don't know if ‘want’ is the right word, in this case.” He shook his head. “I feel like I gotta try. A friend of mine, guy knew my dad back when they fought in a different war together, he said to me “If you see something wrong in the world, you can do something or you can do nothing. Your father didn't believe in no-win scenarios, and he saved an entire platoon. If you believe in something, if you do something, you could do even better.” And I guess that advice sat with me through all my years of trying the nothing route, and through not liking the resulting life I was living, so now I'm trying to do something. In my own way.” He chuckled sort of darkly, looking up at Spock. “Y’know?”

“Actually, yes, I think that I do understand.” Spock agreed slowly, nodding, brows knit. He took a few steps back to the door, a gleam in his eye, turning and saying over his shoulder to Jim, “I will return shortly.”

He was down the hall before the human could get a word out. If the council could not be made to come to the correct conclusion about what to do, he would make the decision for himself.

Spock grabbed his satchel and another, larger bag from his room, and then headed down the stairs, first to the great library. There he stuffed several books on engineering and science, as well as battle strategy and combat notes, into the bags. He also grabbed one edition of modern human social behavior, just in case.

Next he went to the armory. Locking several hand phasers to stun, he tossed them in his satchel. He also snatched the prototype personal shield that had been tested, showing promise, recently, and then went down to his workshop. 

Spock had a little project in progress that he wanted to bring along and keep working on. He had a slight feeling if he could complete it, it may prove incredibly useful. He packed a large box with his unfinished invention in it and all the relevant components he could manage to fit inside with it too, and carried the box and his bags down the path to a small dock. Tied to the dock was a small fishing boat. He boarded it, removed any unnecessary supplies it held, and put his cargo in their place. 

Back off the shore, in his room, he dressed in layers, then tucked some food and water from the kitchen into the large pockets hidden in the folds of his cloak, and went back to Jim Kirk’s holding chamber in a hurry.

Jim jumped again, startled, as Spock came rushing in. But he actually smiled when he saw him.

“Nice outfit.” He said. “You told me you'd be back shortly. I don't know if over an hour is usually considered ‘shortly’ for you, but it's not for me. I was starting to get bored in here alone. I missed your company. What've ya been up to?” Spock flushed at the notion of being missed, but did not let himself get distracted.

“I was packing. Come with me, we are leaving. You will take me to the human world, you can return to your career as a spy, and I will find a way to participate in bringing about peace as well.” He announced. Jim was grinning from ear to ear.

“Then let's go, lead the way, Mr. Spock.” The Human said with a hint of excitement. So Spock turned on his heel and led him to the boat, without looking back.

They made it all the way onto the deck of the little, motorized boat before someone emerged from the shadows behind them on the dock. It was Sarek. He was there to stop them from leaving, of course, but it was too late. The small boat’s engine was already humming to life. Spock stood at the rear of the boat, over which he had given Jim total steering control, since he had more experience with similar things than Spock did what with his being a pilot, and raised his hand and split his fingers in a Vulcan salute as they pulled away and headed off, on the water, into the night.


	5. The Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Jim pass time by chatting on the boat.

Once Sarek’s silhouette had blended completely into the moonlit outline of New Shi’kahr, and Spock could no longer even make out the dock in the distance, he settled into a cross-legged sit near the back of their escape boat. As they continued to motor out into the sea, Jim set to rearranging things near the bow.

“How long until we arrive at your base of operations?” Jim looked up, brows raised, as Spock asked this question.

“Uh,” the human scratched his jaw, “I'm not sure. My nautical navigation knowledge is a bit… rusty. It's gonna be a while till we hit mainland U.S. soil again, and then I've got to figure out other transportation and that sort of stuff, so. A couple days, minimum, probably.” He shrugged and continued to shuffle items that Spock had packed and that he himself had brought from his chamber around, facing Spock only occasionally while talking. Spock steepled his hands.

“What are you doing?” He directed his gaze pointedly at the pile of rope and blankets and clothing and bags that Jim was building like a nest. Jim rolled up his sleeves and set his hands on his hips, glancing between Spock and his work.

“Well, I just figured that since our trip is gonna take some time, you might want to get some sleep. At some point.” He shrugged again, smiling.

“Meditation may well be sufficient for me for the duration of our journey, but I appreciate the consideration.” Spock replied, crossing the deck and resuming his criss-crossed sitting position upon the pile of fabric. “Perhaps I may make use of the makeshift bed, eventually, since you put forth the effort to construct it. I do feel less than fully rested after the events of the past day. Will you use it as well?” Jim’s eyes widened.

“No, no, I'm fine, don't worry, I just–“

“Do you not require sleep? Are there humans who do not sleep?” Spock asked, mildly confused. Jim shook his head.

“No, all humans need sleep to live, I sleep, not well, always, or very much, but I sleep. It's just that I don't know how things work with… with Vulcans, and I didn't want to assume anything, and it's not polite to just, y’know, go with the assumption that someone will let you sleep with them, human or not, anyway.” Jim made a face, realizing what he'd just said, still rambling as Spock watched on, unaffected. “I mean, not _sleep with_ – I just mean to _share_ a sleeping _space_ with, that's all. Out of the confines of an established romantic or sexual relationship it's not common, for humans at least, especially with people they don't know very well. I was thinking we could sleep in watches, take turns. So you could have personal space and whatnot. But whatever you wanna do is fine.”

Spock looked into the middle distance momentarily as he thought about the options.

“While I think it would be beneficial to have one of us remain conscious in order to be certain that we stay on course for your homeland, I am also aware that the temperature will continue to drop significantly on the open water through the night and into the early morning. I believe we should both occupy the sleeping space, in order to make the most efficient use of our body heat in maintaining physical comfort, but sleep in shifts as you suggested.”

“You want to huddle together for warmth?” Jim asked in what sounded like shock. Then he appeared to shake that off, and nodded. “Okay. Makes sense. I'll sleep here with you. That's a good plan.” And he marched right over and settled down beside Spock. He propped himself up with his elbow, pulling his sleeves back down and tightening his jacket around himself. Spock arched a brow, dismissed the human’s oddness, and nestled into the bedding.

For a while, things were quiet as they laid side by side looking up at the starry sky. Spock wondered if Jim knew that Spock could see him continually peeking over in his direction. He chose not to acknowledge it, but he noticed, and was silently analyzing why Jim might be doing so. After some time, Jim cleared his throat.

“Y’know, where I'm from, ‘sleep with you’ or ‘sleep together’ or any similar stuff doesn't mean what it literally sounds like, it means, well, they’re euphemisms for, um–“

“You are referring to sexual intercourse, I presume. I did not know that such phrases insinuated other meanings among humans, I thank you for informing me, Jim.” Spock spared the human another bout of rambling, due to his uncomfortability broaching certain topics, so it seemed, and turned to face him. “I thought I was entirely well versed in the subject of carnal relations but perhaps my knowledge of the accompanying informal language and terminology regarding it is somewhat lacking.” Amused, Jim smiled.

“You're educated all about sex?” He asked. Spock nodded.

“Affirmative.” He confirmed. “I have read all the recorded research on human physiology and sexual behaviors in the great library. I am aware of your species’ erogenous zones, typical reactions to arousal, and other information. Maybe you can teach me of the things I do not know, such as the slang and colloquialisms that I am apparently missing from my vocabulary.” Jim was still grinning.

“Sure, sure. But I'm curious… did you bring any of those books with you?” He asked, resting his cheek against his palm as he leaned on his side, bringing himself the slightest amount closer. Spock unintentionally noted the crinkling of the corners of the human’s eyes, and the mischievous look there within.

“No. And you would not enjoy them, I assure you.” Spock replied. Jim raised his eyebrows.

”Oh really?” He asked. Spock did not budge.

” _Yes_.”

”I doubt that.” Jim disputed, wearing a crooked smile and knit brows. Spock inhaled deeply, refraining from making an expression that matched the touch of petty impatience he felt with the human’s stubbornness on the matter. 

”Because there are techniques to harvest sperm that do not require ejaculation, and because the same applies to collecting eggs from biological females without waiting for the window of time that they are physically most fertile, as well as the existence of the possibility of growing infants in artificial wombs rather than in a person’s uterus, at this point in time our studies have concluded that human fornication and sexual pleasure is unnecessary and irrelevant in achieving success and prosperity.” Spock explained. As he was doing the explaining, he watched Jim's mouth drop open and then shut tight, frown, and then open again.

“ 'Irrelevant' ?! That… is so _very_ wrong and untrue.” Jim exclaimed, in disbelief and passionate disagreement with Spock’s statement. “For some people, yeah, sex isn't their thing or it isn't that big of a deal, but not for the human race as a whole. It's… it’s good. It's not the most important thing, obviously, but I know, personally, if I never had sex again in my life I'd be pretty upset.” He was chuckling sort of hysterically, quietly, shaking his head. Spock looked at him quizzically before responding.

“I attempted to tell you that you would not be pleased by our findings, and I intended to avoid sharing them, but you were adamant to the contrary. Clearly, my initial assumption was correct.” Now Jim really laughed.

“Is that Vulcan for ‘I told you so’? I guess you _were_ right, about my opinion, at least. But anyway, how about you guys? If you don't mind my asking, of course, how does– y’know, how does sex work for you guys?”

Spock could feel the warmth in his face, knew that the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were coloring green, but he willed himself not to physically react. In looking toward the stars again to formulate an answer, he did not see Jim looking at him with wonder in his gaze at the sight of the emerald tinted skin.

“Our sexual conduct is both very similar and very dissimilar to yours. The location, shape, and function of Vulcan sexual organs are essentially the same as those of human beings, as well as are the strategic positions through which to create maximum satisfaction. We, as we believe is the logical way, do not often procreate via intercourse, since what you call ‘test tube babies’ are less of a health risk, among other benefits. However, no new children have been born on New Shi’kahr. I am the youngest Vulcan from our island, so I have never witnessed the procedures we practiced back on our home planet in person.” Spock looked away, further, out over the ocean water. “As for differences… I believe my father would advise me not to share details about Vulcan biology, but he is not here and his adherence to secrecy is illogical. Biologically male Vulcans are born with a genetic need to mate once every seven years beginning once they reach adulthood. If they do not, and do not release the proper brain chemicals and pent up energy by some other means such as an emotional break or violence, they will suffer from the symptoms of a severe blood fever and eventually die. So, presently, coitus and sexual pleasure are unfortunately still imperative to Vulcan life.” Slowly, Jim nodded. Spock turned back.

“I would argue that some humans might die without sex, too, but that's… certainly a motivator to get busy, huh? The threat of impending death?” Jim pursed his lips. “But let's backtrack a second, was that ‘maximum satisfaction’, you said?”

“Yes, the aforementioned pleasure experienced during copulation can be optimized by applying knowledge of physiology and scientifically effective and efficient stimulation techniques to the process.” Spock replied. Eyes wide, and smiling from ear to ear, Jim bobbed his head.

“Well, that's neat.” He said, earnestly. 

At a loss as to how he should handle such a reaction to fact, Spock did not say anything in response.

They sat in silence again, eyes upward once more. The purr of the engine did not take away from the sound of waves lapping the hull of the boat, or the relative quietness of the empty sea surface, on which the stars above were reflected, all around. Jim motioned for Spock to get under blankets, and sat up a little higher on their bed-pile so that he could take first watch. Spock watched the human, sitting with his arms out behind him, grinning to himself in the moonlight, and though he didn't say another word, Jim was the last thought in his mind before he fell asleep.


	6. The Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Jim reach America, and meet up with a friend of Jim's

The shifts went by quickly, and by the time Spock lifted his head after his third sleep, Jim was standing at the bow facing the approaching coastline of his country. When he heard the blankets rustling, and the creak of the ship's deck as Spock stood, he turned around with a grin.

“Mornin’,” the human greeted the freshly awoken Vulcan cheerily. Spock moved next to him and looked to the land, eyes narrowed. He could already see the shapes of buildings in the distance. Smoke curled upward from a factory near the shore, bits and pieces of trash bobbed in the water, and horns on ships further down near a large dock nearly drowned out the sounds of the ocean and of the screeching seagulls above. Jim cleared his throat, adding, “Welcome to America.” 

“This is your home? It’s hideous.” Spock spouted, revolted, taken aback by the sights. His face quickly returned to being devoid of expression as he realized the emotionality of his comment. He had not meant to say _that_ , exactly. Jim frowned and shrugged.

“It's not for everyone.” 

As they got nearer to the shore, Jim steered them up to a little pier and hopped onto it to tie their boat in place. Spock packed their remaining supplies in a large rucksack, his incomplete prototype project taking up a lot of the space at the bottom, and climbed out after him.

As they walked up the pier, many people were lounging on sailboats and yachts, or strolling along, and most of them were staring at Spock, who was unaware of the attention and looking ahead to the buildings of the town up the road. Jim shot glares left and right at the gawking people. Then he noticed that Spock was getting far ahead, and scurried to catch up and fall into step beside him.

“In which direction is the war?” Spock asked as he adjusted the strap over his shoulder and surveyed the area. 

“Uh,” Jim made a face as he tried to come up with an answer to the question, “Which part? There's fighting going on in the Pacific, Eastern Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.” Spock faced him, prepared to clarify.

“Wherever the fighting is most intense, then. I feel that after we return you to your superiors, and provide them with your information, that to go where things are at their severest would allow me to put a stop to some of the fighting and maximize the attention brought to my attempt to persuade negotiations toward peace to begin.” Spock strode forward as if he somehow knew where he was going. Jim stopped him in his path.

“Listen, we need to get you some clothes and stuff, first, so you don't stand out so much, before we do anything else. Then I'll figure out where exactly we're at and what we need to do next, okay? Deal?” He said, brows raised, hands holding the Vulcan’s shoulders. Nodding, Spock replied.

“Yes, I agree to your plan. I will go along with whatever you have in mind.” Jim released his gentle hold. Spock resumed walking, and Jim scampered slightly in front of him so that he could lead the way.

They went down the town street, Jim trying to hurry Spock along, until they came to a small local department store. Once inside, Jim tossed heaps of clothing at Spock and shoved him in a dressing room. He sat firmly on a seat outside the door, instructing Spock to try things on and come out and show him. When Spock protested and asked how Jim intended to pay for these items and why he needed such a vast selection when his own robes were perfectly suitable anyway, Jim silenced him by waving a credit card (that he somehow hadn't lost even after everything he'd been through) in a shooing motion and shaking his head.

The first outfit Spock emerged wearing was a muscle tank and a pair of board shorts, which Jim told him showed off his arms (in response to which he arched a brow) but did not seem quite right and didn't really help make him appear to blend in any easier. So Spock shuffled back into the changing room. 

Next he exited in a pair of too tight skinny jeans and a loose fitting hoodie, paired with a flatbilled cap, which Jim immediately shook his head at.

“Doesn't suit your personality, I don't think.” He said. In agreement, Spock went to try on something else.

He returned in black khaki joggers and a crewneck with a button-up underneath, with just the collar peaking out, and stood before Jim, pulling a beanie down onto his head. Jim grinned.

“I think we've got it. Everything fit okay? You look great.” The human came over and straightened Spock's hat. Spock was bewildered by the warmth and flattery Jim was directing at him, surprised to be complimented.

“Thank you. Yes, I am comfortable, and the amount of storage space in the pockets of this pair of pants may be useful.” He nodded. “This outfit is typical of your culture?” Spock questioned, crouching down and lacing up a pair of shoes that Jim had picked out for him as well.

“You could say that. You certainly seem a little more like a human in this stuff, and with something covering your ears. Let's get out of here and go to a bus station or something. I figured out what state we're in while you were trying stuff on, ‘cause I asked a store clerk, so, I have someone relatively nearby we can call to help us out, which makes things just a little easier. Every bit helps. C’mon.” He motioned for them to head to checkout.

Back outside, wandering down the road, Spock observed the human world intently. He watched a couple walking side by side, hands linked, all smiles. Turning his head, he saw another pair of people sitting on a bench with their hands in one anothers’ grasp. He looked to Jim.

“Why are they holding onto each others’ hands?” He asked. Jim looked shocked for a moment before he responded.

“Uh, because they're together.” He quickly looked back the way they were headed. This answer made Spock's eyes widen, and made him think that perhaps the human world was going to be more… _challenging_ to navigate than he had previously believed. 

So, not wanting to be out of the normal order of human society, he reached for Jim's hand. Jim let him grab it, and even let him hold it for a moment, during which Spock felt a substantial trickle of some unnamable pleasant emotion, tainted by a steady drip of anxiety, from Jim through his telepathic touch, but then Jim pulled his hand away and glanced at Spock, red faced.

“That's not– I mean they're together romantically, or whatever, you don't have to hold my hand just because we're going somewhere as a– in a group. Not that I mind! It's just, well, not common in a lot of the world for two adults, who aren't in a relationship, to be holding hands on the street. It's fine if you want to, though, of course, since this– since everything might be a lot for you right now an—“

“I understand, Jim. The practice is not a typical public act for Vulcans, either, I will refrain.”

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, but also left his hand hanging close by to Spock's, just in case. Spock folded his behind his back. They may have continued with their aim to find some public transport without another word, if it weren’t for another interruption. Suddenly, a nearby child who was toddling after his mother on wobbly two-year-old legs broke out into a giggle. Unintentionally, having naturally glanced toward the sound, Spock slowed his pace and stared, with a glimmer of wonder in his eyes, before coming to a complete halt. Jim tilted his head when he saw this.

“Spock? What is it?” He asked, slightly concerned.

“I have…” Spock collected himself and looked away from the child and back to Jim, “I have never seen an infant in person, of my own species or of yours. I was distracted as it was a new experience, forgive me, let us continue.” 

“It’s perfectly okay, kids are interesting little creatures. I can understand. You’ll probably see a lot of ‘em while you’re here in the U.S., though, so you’ll get more used to them, I’m sure.” Jim replied. Spock gestured for Jim to resume directing them to the bus station that was just peeking out around a corner a few blocks down, now. And so he did.

Once inside, Spock sat on a bench and waited while Jim made a call at a pay phone to the friend he had mentioned. The Vulcan was not trying to eavesdrop, out of politeness, but he couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces of Jim’s half of the conversation.

“Hey, I nee– Yeah, hi, hello, sorry... I’m fine, and you? Good. Listen…. I met this– no, not like that, he wants to help with work…..Yes, exactly…. He saved my life so the least I c– yes, okay, yes, I almost died again— would you j– would you just let me ask you a favor?! …..Thank you! Now……meet us…and that’s all I…. that’d be great…. mhm…..yep. Uhuh, I’ll owe ya one….. okay, _another_ one, then….. Thank you, again…. Yeah, see you soon. Bye.” Jim hung up the phone and came back out of the little booth, running a hand through his hair, and Spock looked up expectantly to hear what had been decided. Jim smiled.

“Hey,” he greeted, stretching his arms, “we’re taking a bus to Atlanta. Let’s roll.” Spock nodded as if that meant anything to him, and followed Jim as he went to go buy their tickets.

On the ride, Jim fell asleep almost instantly, with his cheek squished against the windowpane. Spock didn’t wake him. He had checked his ticket, and their trip was going to take several hours. The human needed rest, and Spock would let him have it. He didn’t need to be kept entertained by him. Instead, he faced the window and watched the buildings and farmland and trees zip by. Along the way, a few jeeps and canvas covered military trucks passed, and he was reminded to focus on why he had come to the human world, and to not be too distracted by the new and the exciting.

He meditated until Jim tapped him lightly on the shoulder to let him know they were arriving, those few hours later, at which point he collected himself and exited the bus with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication to the task at hand. Jim’s friend was waiting in the charter bus parking lot with his hands on his hips.

“You must be the new guy. Leonard McCoy, and you are?” He stuck his hand out at Spock, who looked at it intently but made no move to take it.

“Spock. He’s a… foreigner. Doesn’t do handshakes, I don’t think.” Jim answered for the Vulcan, stepping around him and out in front to pull his friend into a hug. Said friend begrudgingly gave a tender squeeze in return. Spock continued to observe.

“Does he not do talking, either?” Asked McCoy as he and Jim parted.

“I do speak. I noticed, you have a different accent than Jim. Why? Are you not also from America?” Spock piped up. McCoy gave Jim a befuddled look, before furrowing his brows at the Vulcan.

“I’m from here, well, from the state of Georgia, not Atlanta. Jim’s from the Midwest. There’s more than one American accent, that’s all.” He answered. “My other curiosities about you aside, I have to ask, are you nauseous from the bus ride? Are you feeling sick? You don’t look so good, man.” Jim moved in between them.

“Bones, don’t play doctor on us already. We just got here!” He said, trying to divert the attention. “Take us out to lunch, show us where we can crash at your apartment for a couple days, be a gentleman!” McCoy was shaking his head.

“I’m not playing, dammit, I _am_ a doctor, and your new friend is _green_.” Jim went to try to make something up in response to McCoy’s discernment, but Spock was already replying.

“Jim had a similar reaction to seeing my species for the first time. As I told him, my blood is copper based, therefore I appear green in undertone. I assure you I am in perfect health. You are also most definitely unqualified practice medicine on anyone that isn’t a human, anyway, so even if I were not, you would not be capable of treating me.” He explained, arms folded behind himself. McCoy’s eyes were wide. Jim was pinching the bridge of his nose, grimacing a little.

“Well, shit.” He said. McCoy opened and shut his mouth several times.

“’Anyone that isn’t a human?’ Now, just what’s that ‘sposed to mean?” Spock removed his hat, revealing his ears, and Jim closed his eyes, deciding not to be involved in this exchange anymore. McCoy squinted at the two points rested against the sides of Spock’s shiny black hair.

“Are those some sort of cosmetic surgical modification?”

“No.”

“What the hell are they, then?! I’ve never seen any sort of deformity like ‘em before.” McCoy walked right up to Spock, staring at his ears up close.

“They are the natural ear shape of the Vulcan race. I am one of many of my people who live on Earth, in seclusion, in secret. We are extraterrestrials. It would probably be most conducive to my remaining undercover as a human for us not to discuss this further, at least in public.” Spock was pulling his cap back on as McCoy rolled his eyes and looked back and forth between the Vulcan and his friend.

“Is this supposed to be funny? Because it’s not funny.” The doctor said without a trace of amusement. Spock turned and pointed to his side.

“Place your hand here. If you are truly a doctor, the drastic difference in my anatomy should prove to you that I am not a human being.” He instructed. McCoy looked to Jim, who just shrugged, and so he went closer and did as Spock told him. Feeling the pounding of a heartbeat in a very wrong location, he backed away, nodding, a look of disturbed acceptance on his face.

“Okay. Aliens. Sure, why not?” He coughed, scratching his jaw, still nodding to himself. “In that case, _really_? A beanie? As if that’s all it takes and he’s suddenly not essentially the color of celery? This was your idea, wasn’t it, Jim?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I had a lot of other options, right? What was I supposed t–“

“You’re an idiot.” McCoy thwacked Jim in the back of the head with his hand. Spock flinched, and found himself reviewing his thoughts to try to understand why. Jim was making a childish face at the doctor.

“Ow! _Watch it_ , I’m a Captain, now, Bonesy. You can’t just go hitting an officer like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Iowa. You’re still the same ridiculous kid I met three years ago, rank increase or not. I guess we can just tell everyone that Mr. Spock here has a rare illness if they ask why he looks like that. You’re lucky I’m here to make the claim sound more credible. You’re welcome.” McCoy faced Spock again. “Well, c’mon, lets go back to my place. I’m sure Jim wants to use my laptop so he can video conference with his super spy superiors, don’t ya, kid? I’ll make lunch.” He started walking toward a pickup truck across the lot, tucking his hands in his pockets. Jim trotted behind and Spock followed as well.

“Fried chicken?” Asked Jim.

“Shut up. Hey, Spock?”

“Yes?”

“You’re riding in the front with me. Have fun in the truck bed, Jim.” McCoy said with a pleased-with-himself, crooked grin. Jim pouted.

“You’re a monster, Bones, you know that, right?” McCoy laughed a bit at this, opening the driver side door.

“Oh, I know, I’m just the _worst_. Get in the truck.”

Once the three of them were all seated, they pulled out of the parking lot and headed across Atlanta.


End file.
